


ghosts & robots

by oikawatoorpoo



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Lots of Angst, M/M, have fun, jumin angsting over v being dead essentially, just. watch tf out its s u p e r sad, rlly rlly sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 08:10:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oikawatoorpoo/pseuds/oikawatoorpoo
Summary: No matter how hard he tried to rid himself of it, the feel of Jihyun's hands on his skin haunted him. Delicate fingers, well taken care of as they were his livelihood, dancing over his skin, pulling him closer and pushing him away. His dreams were filled with this madman's dance, with the gentle in and out. Until the shove. There was always a shove.





	ghosts & robots

**Author's Note:**

> kms ??? just jumin angsting over his dead bf(f)

Jihyun Kim was not a nice man. Nice men didn't make him hurt like this. Nice men didn't make him feel like his chest had been hollowed out and leave no evidence behind to show that they had ever built a home inside. Nice men didn't make him cry. By all of those standards, Jihyun was nothing close to a nice man. That must be why Jumin wasn't in charge of deciding who qualified for that status, as Jihyun was most definitely the nicest man he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. And losing. That didn’t mean he hated him any less, though. How dare he leave so suddenly? He promised he would be there for _forever_. As far as Jumin was aware, forever wasn’t 27 years. Forever was until they were elderly, when the blue faded to silver and wrinkles outlined features that had once been so beautiful and soft. They would likely still be beautiful by that age, he was sure of it. Jihyun had always been angelic, his laugh like bells in Jumin’s ears. Once, it had been a wake up call. The start of a great era of feeling something more than the chilling emptiness. Now, it was taunting. In the videos from their childhood, some recorded by Jihyun and others by his sister or their parents, the melodic sound haunted his ears. It rang in them, a cruel reminder that this was the only way he would ever hear it again. At least it was his like this, a part of him that Jumin would never have to share. He had a lot of those, but they were nowhere near enough to stitch him back together again. All of the RFA had their own little pieces of him, even the unworthy ones. They were all unworthy, really. The things they’d said to him, the way they’d all acted. Jihyun had helped them, yes. But he hadn’t loved them like he loved Jumin. He knew that for a fact. The video from when they were in high school, before V lost himself to _her_ , was buried in his phone somewhere. A happy memory of Jihyun kissing his cheek while they were intertwined on his bed, both of them smiling from ear to ear. He still remembered the feel of the other’s lips against his, even if it had grown distorted with time. Childish mistakes, as Jihyun had once put it. They both knew better than to believe that. 

No matter how hard he tried to rid himself of it, the feel of Jihyun's hands on his skin haunted him. Delicate fingers, well taken care of as they were his livelihood, dancing over his skin, pulling him closer and pushing him away. His dreams were filled with this madman's dance, with the gentle in and out. Until the shove. There was always a shove. Soft hands became shaky, all of the other's lacking strength going into the push. It was nothing more than a dream, obviously. Jihyun had never been good at keeping his nails in a proper condition, but the ones that dug into his shoulders when he was yanked back were. He'd caught sight of them enough times to recognize that. If given the opportunity, he would have helped take care of his hands. The business man knew them better than she ever would. He knew the way he popped his knuckles when he got anxious, and his terrible habit of biting his nails. He knew it all… or, he had once. She changed him. Made him so twisted and awfully different that he was rendered unrecognizable. Maybe if Jumin had listened to his heart, the little voice telling him to pull Jihyun in and never release him, things would have been different. Maybe he wouldn't be six feet under, rotting like flowers above.

He did his best to deliver new flowers each week, visiting every other day. Living through the melancholy was better than allowing the world to forget someone so extraordinarily beyond wonderful. At least, that's what he thought. The rest of the RFA seemed to have no qualms with it, moving on with their lives as though he'd never even existed in the first place; as though he wasn't important. It was wrong, so very wrong, sickening for Jumin to even think about. The day the world forgot Jihyun would be the day he became as robotic as they all thought him to be. In a way, he ran on his rage. This soul crushing, unwavering feeling was all he had at the end of the day. No longer was there someone he could love and trust, someone to wait on until the skies turned red. He wondered if that would come soon. His world was gone, so would everyone else's follow. It was what was fair.

God didn't seem to be very fond of fairness, judging by what he'd done to Jihyun. He took his eyes, his life, and everything Jumin had ever loved. The warm heart that brought light to his cold, dark world was gone and he would never again have the chance to lay beside it, selfishly soaking up its heat. All he'd ever been was selfish, but Jihyun never seemed to mind. He never called him out when his casual touches lingered too long to really be casual, or his words were far too _something_ to be platonic. But he'd never seen him call anyone out on anything, if he thought about it. Not on Luciel's obvious lies, or Yoosung's blatant hypocrisy. Perhaps it hadn’t been the display of favoritism he thought it was, only Jihyun’s nature as a being. 

The cold marble stone wasn’t fitting. Jumin thought that the man deserved page upon page of descriptions that he would never have been able to write himself, but V.. He’d always had an odd way with words, knew exactly what he had to say to make his heart race and what would bring him down to Earth. He provided a new perspective at every turn, one similar to his own yet so entirely different. 

Jumin stared at his picture on the countertop, clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction. "This doesn't fit you," He began, looking around to ensure that no one would hear him talking to a photo. "You were too big to be contained by something as miniscule as this. What... happened to the Jihyun that I knew?" The businessman let out a bitter chuckle, picking the bottle of wine back up. "How silly of me. A dead man can answer no questions." He spat, knocking the frame onto the floor before leaving the room. There was an odd satisfaction in seeing it shatter. Maybe he'd finally be free of him now.


End file.
